This Neck of the Woods
by highflyer101
Summary: According to St. Mungo's, Arden has sunken into depression. Who wouldn't? After watching your brother get attacked by a werewolf, it's kind of hard to be optimistic. Desperate to escape the memories, Arden gladly returns to Hogwarts for her last year. She wants nothing more than to forget her summer, but it's kind of hard when she discovers one of her classmate's biggest secrets...
1. Prologue

I was officially having the worst summer ever.

First, I had come home to find that my room had been completely redecorated in my absence and converted it a library. (My parents' excuse: you'll need a place to study before you go back to school!) Second, my boyfriend sent me a hasty letter ending our relationship. (Which I wasn't really that cut up about, it just seemed very impersonal.) Third, I found out that not only was I not Quidditch captain next year, I was not even Head Girl. It was really kind of pathetic, for my family, at least.

You see, the Whitacre family is famous for raising generation after generation of Ravenclaw, each extraordinary in some way. My great aunt was a Seer, my grandfather was an Animagus, my dad was a Metamorphogus, my great-great uncle was Minister of Magic, my brother was one of the best Aurors around... You get the point. So everyone was kind of disappointed when I didn't get _anything. _Sure, I was still a prefect, an excellent Keeper, and top of my year, but that was so insignificant compared to what I might have been.

I, ever the tempestuous one, rose dramatically from my seat at the dinner table, throwing down the letter in the process. Vaguely, I considered the fact that my Hogwarts letter would now be on display to the entire family, but I continued towards the door. I was in desperate need of a good, long fly, if only to prove to myself that I was certainly good enough to have gotten captain. Besides, the open air would help to clear my mind.

It didn't matter that I wasn't being sensible, like a Ravenclaw should be. I just knew that I wanted to go outside, so I did. The forest behind my house (or mansion, as the case may be) was already dark; we ate dinner particularly late that night. I wasn't concerned, though. Years of living there had taught me the ins and outs of the woods and I was confident I could find my way home.

"Arden!" a voice called from behind me. I barely paused.

"Go away, Tristan," I responded flatly. My older brother, however thoughtful, was not someone I wanted to see right now. I didn't want to listen to him ramble about all of his accomplishments, which was undoubtedly what he would do. Tristan and I may have been close, but it was in our family's nature to brag. Without waiting for a response, I grabbed my broom and headed for the forest.

"Arden, come on, it's no big deal-" Ignoring him, I mounted my broom. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going for a fly," I muttered, finally responding to him. His blue eyes widened.

"What? No- Arden, it could be dangerous," he warned me. "It's too late to go out." I snorted.

"Calm down, Trist. It's our own property, not the Forbidden Forest."

"Still," he argued. "It's not worth the risk- ARDEN!"

I kicked off the ground without waiting for him to finish, soaring towards the sky. The stars twinkled invitingly at me, like they were beckoning me higher. I sighed. Night flying was always my favorite. The world seemed so infinite at nighttime. There was no visible horizon line; the universe was completely and totally limitless. If I flew far enough, maybe I could find some place that thought I was good enough.

Tristan was behind me in an instant. He looked angry, something that was rare for him. Mostly, he just looked terrified. I couldn't imagine what he would be scared of, though. We had been basically raised in the woods, spending our childhood having picnics by the lake. It wasn't like there was a dragon lurking about, waiting to pounce. The only difference was it was dark now.

The fact was, it wasn't logical to be scared just because it was night. The forest stayed the exact same, no matter the hour of day. I would have thought an accomplished Ravenclaw like my brother would have realized that.

Suddenly, a haunting song pierced the night. Never in my life had I heard something sound so pained. The cry was a mix between a scream and a howl, like some kind of demon had just been released. Immediately, my training kicked in. I needed to get out of there, I needed to get home, I needed to get safe. Tristan briefly crossed my mind, but I pushed my worries away. He was an _Auror, _after all. He would be okay.

I made a sharp turn on my broom, racing back towards home. And that's when I saw it. The full moon. Which could only mean...

The werewolf howled from below us. Adrenaline pounded through my veins, pushing me to act, but I couldn't seem to move. Apparently, there was a reason I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor. I couldn't even bring myself to fly any farther. My grip on the broomstick loosened slowly. _A werewolf was in our forest. _How could we possibly escape? How could I possibly be so stupid?

Another howl rang through the air. It would seem that the creature had scented us. Almost immediately, Tristan sprang into action.

"We need to hide, Arden. Now," he told me tersely. My eyes widened.

"Hide? As in... In the forest?" I breathed, feeling dizzy. Suddenly I found myself seriously doubting my brother's state of mind. Maybe he had gone insane...

"The more still we are, the better. The werewolf will smell us more if we're being active, like trying to run away. Now land, and stay completely silent."

Despite my reservations, I obeyed. Shakily, I planted my feet on the ground, wrapping my hands around the wand tucked away in my back pocket. I was still sixteen, so the Ministry would have grounds to expel me if I used it, but I decided I'd rather be alive and out of Hogwarts than dead. Tristan reached the forest floor right after me, pushing me protectively into a bush.

"Shh, Arden," he soothed, noticing the silent tears that weaved down my face. "Just wait it out..."

I couldn't help but wonder how long he expected me to stay huddled in a bush for. The werewolf wouldn't be gone until the morning, and that seemed centuries away. How could we possibly survive this? I wasn't brave or courageous like him; I was more a classroom kind of girl. This was leagues out of my element.

Another howl echoed through the trees, causing both of us to jump. Instinctively, I reached for my wand, but Tristan grabbed my hand, raising a finger to his lips.

_'Why not?'_ I mouthed to him. He didn't reply, only squeezing my hand. The ground vibrated with footsteps and I whimpered quietly. The creature was getting closer and closer.

"I have to stop it, Ar," Tristan whispered, already tip-toeing out of our hiding place. I nearly screamed. He slapped his hand over my mouth. "Sorry, Arden. I know you'll hate me for this, but I can't let you get hurt." My eyes widened in question. What was he talking about? _"Silencio," _he muttered, pointing his own wand at my mouth. I fought against him more wildly than ever. He couldn't expect me to watch him sacrifice himself, could he?

Without another word, he bounded into the light. The beast let out a ferocious roar. My eyes screwed shut of their own accord. I couldn't see this. It didn't change the fact that I heard every scream, though. Every cry of pain and curse. My cheeks burned with shame at my uselessness. Why couldn't I just be better at non-verbal spells? During the school year, I was one of the best in our class at it, but now all my experience seemed to fly away. My brain was muddled with pictures of me and my brother playing in this very forest so carelessly. How could this be the same place?

What seemed like eons later, I heard the werewolf lumbering away, it's hunger satisfied. My brother's screams had diminished to low moans that made my blood run cold. I could feel the Silencing charm wearing off as he grew weaker and weaker. Nearly blinded by my tears, I stumbled out of the bush to crouch beside Tristan. I groped his neck for a pulse, but was horrified to find none. I pulled my hand away, gagging at the stench of blood.

"Please, Tristan, please," I begged, despite knowing he wouldn't hear me. The fact that the charm had completely lost it's affect only solidified the fear that he was dead. "No," I gasped, not caring if that monster heard me. Maybe I could be braver this time, now that I had a death to avenge. A mangled sob gurgled in my throat. "Why did you have to follow me out here? Why?"

Tears leaked out of my eyes even more rapidly as I realized that he had died for _me. _If I hadn't been so bloody stupid, if I'd just acted like the proper Ravenclaw for once in my life and thought this whole thing through, I wouldn't have lured him into the forest, thrown him to his death. It was my fault even more than it was the werewolf's: I _should _have known better, the werewolf couldn't have realized what it was doing. I was utterly disgusted with myself and I knew that my parents would be too.

In a horrifying moment of deja vu, the werewolf wailed again. Apparently, I had been wrong; it still yearned for blood. Every bone in my body screamed at me to run, but I couldn't just leave Tristan there for that creature to devour. Nauseously, I wrapped my arms around his limp torso, dragging him with me as I fled. Usually, I could sprint home in a matter of minutes; weighed down by my brother's body it might have taken hours.

Finally, I reached my familiar backyard. The first rays of sun were filtering through the canopy of trees overhead and I couldn't help but think that the werewolf would be changing back right about now. Blood smeared on the grass behind me as I lugged Tristan's corpse to the back door, pounding on it for help. I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted me parents to do about his death; it wasn't like they could bring him back. I just needed to think that there was some way I could right my innumerable wrongs.

Almost as soon as I reached the door, my mother swung it open. Her jaw hung as she beheld her only daughter holding the dead body of her only son. I knew how it most have looked, what with me covered with blood, but I couldn't bring myself to explain the situation more eloquently than, "Werewolf. Forest. Tristan..." In a hollow voice, Mum summoned Dad downstairs. Simultaneously, the two burst into tears. I couldn't help but feel like I was intruding on their moment of mourning; my father would never willingly cry in front of me. On the other hand, it wasn't like I could go quietly sit in my room after the night I had just had.

"I-I'm so sorry," I said lowly, trying to fill the void. Mum raised her eyes slowly, looking at me as if I was some kind of alien. I waited for her reassurance that it wasn't my fault, that it would be okay, but it never came. Instead, she spoke in an unwavering, unsympathetic tone.

"I bet you are."

**A/N: Thoughts? I really hope you all like it. Without sounding braggy, I thought it was kinda good... Comment and favorite please! You guys are the best!**


	2. Chapter One

Depression is a pretty strong word. It's not just sad, or upset. It means you're really, _truly _heartbroken. And according to the esteemed witches and wizards at St. Mungo's, that's exactly what I was.

I guess it made sense. I mean, Tristan had died right before my eyes and my mother had basically told me it was my fault. But that didn't stop my parents from being absolutely appalled at the verdict - apparently, they couldn't imagine what on earth I could possibly be so cut up about.

_"You _lived and _he _died," she had hissed at me once we left the hospital. _"You're _the lucky one, and you're still not pleased with that?" My father had stood stonily beside her as she berated me for being such an ingrate. As usual, he didn't say anything, but I could tell he agreed with every word she was saying. In their eyes, I was even more of a monster than the wolf was.

Now, I sat in my room, all alone. I was supposed to be packing for Hogwarts at the moment, my final year. People questioned whether I was ready to return, but I waved away their concerns. Anything to get out of this haunted house. Besides, all anyone knew was that my brother was dead. None of the students could have possibly known exactly what happened to him: my father had scattered about money in a few places to ensure our secret would be kept safe.

Halfheartedly, I flicked my wand at my clothes, watching as they folded themselves. My seventeenth birthday had just recently passed, allowing me to perform magic whenever I wished. The privilege seemed a little bittersweet, seeing as it could have come much more in handy last month. Still, I used it as an excuse to be lazy.

Once my trunk was filled to the brim with robes, each emblazoned with the purple bird of Ravenclaw, I stood from my bed and clicked it shut. In a few hours, I would be lugging it through King's Cross Station by myself. My parents, being the cold, reserved people they were, had arranged for me to apparate to the station alone. Apparently I was so nauseating to them that they couldn't even say goodbye.

Sighing, I pulled on my favorite pair of brown cords and a white button-down, topping it off with a checked blazer with a leather collar. I pulled my dusty, not-quite-brown hair into a messy fishtail while shoving my feet into a pair of Muggle horseback riding boots. Looking in the mirror, I nodded to myself. At least I would look somewhat presentable.

Not bothering to summon a houseelf, I enchanted my trunk to follow me down the stairs. Part of me was tempted to go ask my parents if they wanted to have breakfast with me before I left, or if they even wanted to see me, but I pushed it away. No point in going looking for a rejection. I might as well get going.

"Mum, Dad!" I called up the stairs. Unsurprisingly, they didn't reply. "Er- I'm going to the station now. I-I'll write you!"

Despite myself, I paused for a response. Maybe they would have a sudden change of heart and come to see me off. At the very least, they might send a houseelf down with a message for me. Stalling, I examined my living room. It looked the same as it had the day I was born. The walls were built of stone like some kind of medieval castle and the furniture was all antique - passed down from my great, great, great grandparents, or something. On the mantel above the fireplace was a picture of Tristan on his first day of work as an Auror. He was smiling blissfully, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was plunging into a dangerous lifestyle. Would I ever be that brave? I looked away. The answer to that question was a resounding _'no'. _I'd had my chance to do something great, and I failed.

Finally accepting the fact that my parents weren't going to be coming down, I gripped my trunk and screwed my eyes shut, concentrating on the familiar vision of Platform 9 3/4. As always, I winced at the suffocating sensation that overtook me as I apparated. My entire body felt like it was being squeezed through a tube until I was deposited at King's Cross.

The platform was basically deserted when I arrived. There were still hours to go before the train left. Feeling particularly lonely, I clicked open my trunk, sifting through the contents for a book. Eventually, I settled on a copy of _Magic in Muggles, _an intriguing biography of a wizard who pledged to live without magic for an entire year. Flipping through the novel, I plopped down on the lid of my trunk, preparing for a boring wait for the train.

"Oi! Lookie here, Prongsies! We're not the first ones, after all!"

I jumped. I could've sworn I was alone, but apparently company had just arrived. Uncomfortably, I turned my head to face the intruders. Before me stood two boys and an older woman, probably their mother. The boys looked familiar, although I couldn't quite match them to a name. All I remembered about them was that they were two Gryffindors in my year and I had written them up for various pranks. They each had jet black hair, though one's was considerably messier than the other's. The one with the neat hair sported a charming grin and coal grey eyes, while the messy-haired one's eyes glinted mischievously behind a pair of round glasses. The woman with them stumbled to keep up, her brown eyes gleaming affectionately.

"Don't be rude, boys," she chastised them gently. "Introduce yourselves." Internally, I rolled my eyes at the fact that she treated two 17 year old guys like toddlers. I half expected her to give them a cookie when they spoke to me.

"Yes, Mother," the bespectacled one droned. "Although I think she knows our names." I snorted. How arrogant did you have to be to just assume that everyone at Hogwarts knew who you were?

"I don't," I informed him bluntly. "Should I?"

"No," he replied. "I just thought you've docked enough points from us to have memorized our entire file, that's all." I rolled my eyes.

"Excuse me for having better things to do than research you, then."

"Don't worry about it, love," the other one grinned. "I'm Sirius Black, and _this _is James Potter." Winking, he saluted me. I raised an eyebrow. So they _weren't _brothers. Then what were they doing together?

"Nice to know," I responded coolly.

"And your name is?" Potter prodded. I winced. I was kind of hoping against hope that they wouldn't ask who I was. Once I told them, they would inevitably give me pitying looks and start spouting off apologies about my brother's untimely death. I'd had enough of that at the funeral, and honestly I didn't want the reminder that he was gone. It felt a little bit like they were rubbing salt in my wounds.

"Arden Whitacre," I said shortly. As predicted, the woman accompanying them gasped before rushing over to my side.

"Oh, my poor girl!" she gushed. I looked away from Black and Potter's curious stares. "I read all about what happened in the Daily Prophet, and I simply _could not _believe... Well, your brother was very brave. His sacrifice won't be forgotten in the war." Ah, so she believed Tristan was killed by Voldemort. Honestly, it was the perfect explanation. No one would question that an Auror would be struck down by You-Know-Who. Realizing this, I went along with it.

"It was what he wanted," I told her simply, trying my best to look contrite. Guilt gnawed at me for lying about something as big as my brother's death. What would Mrs. Potter do if she knew that I was the one to blame for his untimely demise?

"Your brother died?" Potter cut in, frowning. His mother glared at his insensitivity. Ignoring her, I nodded silently. "Wow. Sorry."

"Thanks," I choked out.

"He sounds like a true Gryffindor to have died like that," he comforted me. I chuckled.

"Ravenclaw," I corrected.

"What?"

"Tristan was a Ravenclaw. Like my entire family." Black and Potter gaped at me. Apparently they couldn't wrap their head around a _Ravenclaw _being a successful Auror.

"But... Aren't Aurors usually Gryffindors?"

"Nope. Judging by your stupidity, I'm guessing you two are, though," I sniped. Black chuckled.

"You're funny," he announced. "Hey, Witty Whitacre! That's what I'll call you!" He beamed widely at my new nickname, obviously proud of his cleverness.

"Please don't," I entreated him. It sounded like something Peeves would say, and God knows Hogwarts did not need another Peeves.

"Nope! I like it! Don't you, Prongs?"

"Love it," Potter agreed. I groaned.

"Boys, be nice," Mrs. Potter warned them.

"Whatever you say, June," Black shrugged. She smiled softly at him.

"I'll have none of your cheek, Sirius," she retorted, wagging a finger at him.

I watched this exchange curiously. Black was clearly comfortable with his best friend's mother, so much so that it seemed like they were actually family. I couldn't help but wonder how he grew so close to her. What about his own family? Obviously they'd had some falling out. Why else would he be coming to King's Cross with the Potter's? Unless his parents were dead. But that couldn't be right; if I remembered correctly, the Blacks were such a prominent family that every death would be reported in the Prophet.

"Well, I suppose there's no need for me to stay here any longer," Mrs. Potter mused. "Now that you're in _seventh _year and all." Her eyes glistened with tears and I felt a stab of jealousy. Why couldn't my parents act like that anymore?

Mrs. Potter embraced both Potter and Black before turning back to me. To my surprise, she smacked a kiss on my cheek.

"I do hope you have a good year, dear, despite everything that's been happening. It was lovely to meet you."

"Y-you too," I stuttered. In awe, I watched her flit away from us before exiting the station with a _pop, _leaving me alone with Black and Potter.

"Sorry about her," Potter apologized, running a hand through his hair. "She kind of latches onto people, you know."

"It's fine." In reality, it was more than fine. Weird as it was, it felt nice to be cared about by someone I didn't even know.

"Well, Witty," Black began, throwing himself beside me on the trunk. I shifted away from him. "Where are your parents?"

"They left already," I lied easily. He nodded.

They both made a few more attempts to engage me in conversation, but I kept my gaze firmly on my book. I had my own network of friends at school and really wasn't interested in making smalltalk with a couple of troublesome Gryffindors. Besides, I could already tell that they would drive me insane. Until other people arrived, they spent all their time making stupid sex jokes and planning immature pranks.

After what I thought was hours, another friend of theirs arrived to entertain them. This one was a stout, blubbering boy named Peter, who laughed too hard at Black's jokes and tried desperately to be as clever as his companions. I felt kind of bad for him as I watched his pathetic attempts to be funny. His friends, on the other hand, were clearly exasperated with his stupidity.

"Please stop talking, Wormtail," Black requested, rolling his eyes arrogantly. Peter giggled nervously. I frowned to myself. What had possessed that boy to be friends with a couple of boys who obviously bullied him constantly? "Where's Moony?" Black continued, ignoring his disappointed expression.

I crinkled my brow at the nickname. I had noticed their odd terms of endearment already; Padfoot, Prongs, Wormtail... They seemed pretty random and nonsensical. Despite myself, I was eager to know what they meant. I was a Ravenclaw, after all. It was in my nature to figure things out. "I'm here!" a harried voice answered. Curiously, I took a look at the newest arrival. This one I knew better - he was a prefect, too. His name was Remus Lupin and he always looked like he'd just gotten in a fight with Voldemort himself. His clothes were shabby and patched, and hung off his gaunt body. Nonetheless, he was fairly handsome, with hair just a few shades darker than mine and warm, green eyes. I was surprised to see a thin, fresh-looking scar running down his face and neck.

So this was Moony.

**A/N: What do you think? Like, love? Hopefully you don't hate it... Please favorite and comment. I love to hear from you guys! Thanks for reading!****  
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	3. Chapter Two

Remus, or Moony, or whatever his name was, seemed about ten times more polite than his friends. _That _I had established within five minutes of his arrival. Not once did he wolf-whistle at a passing girl or pick on a younger Slytherin. All and all, he was actually quite tame. It would appear that there was a reason he had been made a prefect.

What _didn't _make sense was the company he kept. I'd heard Gryffindors were particularly loyal, but he would have to be downright mad to willingly spend time with Black and Potter. Just talking to them probably killed brain cells. However, it appeared that there was a special sort of camaraderie among the four. Even when they were just goofing around, they acted as if they knew something no one else did. Perhaps it had something to do with those silly nicknames...?

Checking my watch, I began to countdown the minutes until the Hogwarts Express left. At the moment, it was 10:50, which I decided was as good a time as any to board. I might as well beat the hoards of students that would be rushing on at the last minute. Sighing, I hauled my trunk over to the kind-faced conductor standing outside. Just like every year, he waved his wand over it and it disappeared with a small _pop, _off to Hogwarts already. A single uniform was left behind for me to change into on the train.

Somewhat listlessly, I wandered up and down the aisle way. It was a little ghoulish to see it so empty. There was no life on the usually vivacious train, no tinkle of laughter. I couldn't help but feel a bit unsettled at the silence. It felt like the calm before the storm, in a way. Only I didn't know just what the storm was...

Finally, more people began to file on, piling into compartments. I was pretty much ignored by the younger, happier students, and watched from the shadows as they shared tales of their exciting summers. Now more than ever, I wished I had something to say about my vacation other than 'my brother died'. I wanted to be as carefree as the innocent fourth years, only worrying about their latest crush. I didn't want to be thinking about my parents' undeniable hatred towards me, or how this would be my last train ride to Hogwarts. It hurt too much.

Wrenching myself out of my thoughts, I continued down the train until I reached the prefects' compartment. There shouldn't be too many people there yet, seeing as the meeting still didn't start for another fifteen minutes. I was just in the mood to relax somewhere, and popping into some random kid's compartment was out of the question. Way too awkward.

"Exero," I muttered once I reached the familiar mahogany doors. All prefects were taught the spell in fifth year, so that they could use their privileges as they pleased. The enchantment opened our special bathroom and the train compartment, among other things.

I stepped into the stunning room as the doors swung inwards. This carriage of the train really was magnificent. Leather couches of red, blue, yellow, and green ran down each wall, along with a small snack bar directly across from the door. The walls were made of rich wood, and the ceiling was just like the one in the Great Hall - it changed with the weather. Chuckling to myself, I remembered how awestruck I had been when in my fifth year. Now, the special chamber actually seemed normal.

To my surprise, I wasn't alone. A slender, redheaded girl perched on one of the scarlet couches, nose buried in some book of Ancient Runes. She was already in her Gryffindor robes, and proudly bore a large badge with 'HG' inscribed on it. _So this is the Head Girl,_ I mused to myself. A month ago, I would have cursed her name for stealing the position that should have been mine, but now I couldn't bring myself to care. (The healers at St. Mungo's would say this lack of interest was a side effect of my depression.)

Uncomfortably, I shifted my weight. I didn't want to interrupt her reading and end up having to make small talk with her, but I couldn't very well just stand there like a statue. Perhaps she wouldn't notice if I just slipped out...? Deciding that leaving was my best chance, I tip-toed back to the door.

"Hello!" I froze. Apparently, I hadn't been quiet enough. The Head Girl had still spotted me. Plastering a smile on my face, I swiveled to face her. "You're from Ravenclaw, right?" she asked. I frowned.

"How do you know that?" I shot back before I could stop myself. The girl blushed.

"We, er, had a few patrols together last year," she explained, looking almost as uncomfortable as I felt. I couldn't help but feel guilty for forgetting her. Even if we weren't friends, she made it sound like we were at least acquaintances.

"Oh, right. I remember," I lied. The girl snorted.

"No, you don't. It's alright, though. We didn't ever talk much. I just have a particularly keen memory." She propelled herself out of her seat and stuck out her hand. I took it hesitantly. "Lily Evans," she said.

"Arden Whitacre," I mumbled. Predictably, her face twisted into a sympathetic pout.

"Are you the girl-"

"With the dead brother?" I finished coldly. "Yeah, I am." Lily looked down.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It must be awful for you to always get asked that." I allowed myself to smile glumly at her.

"You get used to it," I said nonchalantly, fiddling with the hem of my blazer. I wanted desperately to change the subject. Fibbing about Tristan's death conjured up too many memories for me to handle. Looking around the room, my eye fastened on her uniform. "Should I go ahead and get changed?" Lily shrugged.

"You don't have to. I only did because I'm Head Girl, and apparently we're supposed to look official. You can sit with me if you like."

I considered my options carefully. I either changed and didn't come back until the meeting actually began, thus avoiding any type of conversation with Lily, or I stayed and chatted with her until someone else arrived. Hesitantly, I inched towards the blue Ravenclaw couch. What was the worst that could happen?

"So, are you excited for our last year?" Lily burst out, beaming. I shrugged.

"Yes and no, I suppose. I don't really know what I'm going to do after Hogwarts." (I did, however, know that I was under no circumstances going to become an Auror.)

"Yeah, it'll be tough. Especially with this war coming," she agreed pensively. Her face brightened, though, when the door creaked open once again. "Remus!" she cried.

I watched curiously as she hugged Remus. They were obviously good friends. Again I noticed the jagged scar running down his cheek. Where had he gotten it?

"Remus, this is Arden," Lily introduced me. I smiled politely and shook his hand. He grinned amiably at me.

"Aren't you the one Sirius was talking about?" he wondered aloud. Lily gasped.

"Merlin, he's latched onto you now?" she growled at me. "What a git! I'd stay away from him, if I were you."

"Believe me, I plan to," I muttered. Remus laughed heartily.

"It won't be easy," he warned me. I rolled my eyes.

"I can handle him." He smiled before turning back to Lily.

"James will be here in a second," he informed her. She blanched.

"James as in- as in- _Potter?"_ she sputtered, her red cheeks rivaling her hair. "What on earth could he be doing in the _prefects' _compartment?"

"Then you didn't know?" he said sheepishly.

"Know _what?" _she demanded.

"Well, James has been made Head Boy." My jaw dropped. Potter was Head Boy? I'd written him up for so many detentions I'd lost count! Lily seemed equally distressed.

"But he's not even a prefect!" she wailed.

"I am now, Evans," a cocky voice chimed in. Potter strode towards her, also decked out in his Gryffindor robes. "See? I have a badge and everything!" Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Potter smirked. "Speechless, Evans?" She growled deep in her throat in response.

I had the strangest feeling this was going to be a longer year than I bargained for.

**A/N: Thoughts? **


	4. Chapter Three

From that point on, the prefects' meeting actually went smoothly. Lily and James bickered like an old married couple, which I quickly figured out was nothing new. He asked her out a few times, which, apparently, was also routine. In no time, I found my mind wandering away. I'd heard the whole spiel on nighttime patrols countless times, and it didn't seem worth it to listen. For some reason, all I could really think of was sleep. And my bedroom back at home. Not a dorm full of giggling girls.

"That should be everything," Lily finished, finally. In years past, both Head Girl _and _Boy would end the session, but it appeared that Lily didn't value James's opinion enough. It reminded me of some Muggle thing my cousins had smuggle me into a while back. A film, was it? Yes, that's what it was. Their entire relationship was chick-flick material.

I rose in tandem with the rest of the prefects, all of us off to change and then begin our patrol of the train. Exciting life, I know. Remind me why I had wanted this so badly?

Listlessly, I made my way to the restroom, uniform in hand. It was empty, thank Merlin. My social skills hadn't improved in the last hour, and I still wasn't up to small talk. Shoving myself into a stall, I changed into my familiar uniform. White shirt, House tie, blue pleated skirt, gray v-neck sweater, gray knee-highs, and black suede flats. I looked every bit the perfect student. No one would have guessed that I was completely and utterly alone in the world.

Inexplicably, my mood had just bottomed out. Everything had hit me with the force of a thousand bludgers - I'd effectively killed my brother, my parents hated me, and there were little to no redeeming qualities about me. Not exactly a recipe for happiness.

I ambled aimlessly down the carriages, not really paying attention to the kids I passed by. They literally could have been hexing each other silly and I wouldn't have noticed (or cared). Let them have their fun. It wouldn't go on for much longer, after all. Lily had been right when she said that the war was going to change everything - this might be their last chance to goof off. Who was I to take that from them? Feeling decidedly non-prefect-ish, I made the decision to ditch my prefect duties and find a nice, empty compartment.

"Witty Whitacre!" an all too familiar voice cooed. Groaning, I turned to face the source of the noise. Black, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew were all cozily situated in the compartment right next to me. I didn't even bother to plaster a smile on my face.

"You called?" I responded drily. Black cackled.

"See! Told you she was funny, Moony!" he howled. Lupin rolled his eyes.

"I never said she wasn't."

"You were talking about me?" I chimed in, brow furrowed in confusion. What could Black and Lupin have to say about me? Unless they were gossipers. In which case, I _definitely _did not like them.

"That we were, Witty!" Black confirmed. Lupin smacked his arm.

"I was just telling them that we're probably doing prefect patrols together this year," he informed me politely.

"How on earth could you know that?" I wondered aloud. Lupin chuckled, but Potter jumped in before he could respond.

"'Cause Lily and I said so, at the meeting. Gryffindors and Ravenclaws are patrolling together." I couldn't help the blush that crept up my cheeks. My parents had at least taught me basic manners, and that meant listening when people spoke. Now, here I was, being reminded of something by the _Head Boy. _It was a little embarrassing.

"Right," I agreed, trying to act like he had jogged my memory in any way, shape, or form. "I'm surprised you heard her say that, though, Potter. Thought you were too busy staring down her shirt to pay attention," I added smoothly, much to the amusement of his three friends. Black and Lupin guffawed loudly while Pettigrew tittered to himself quietly in the corner.

"Come on, Witty," Potter replied easily, having recovered from his humiliation. "You should be respectful to your Head Boy." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Speaking of which, why am I patrolling the train while _you two-" _Here, I pointed at he and Lupin. "Are in here?"

"Because no one's doing any harm," Lupin said simply.

"How do you know?" I demanded.

"We have our ways," Potter assured me haughtily before ushering me out. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't take a second look for us..." I stomped away furiously as he slammed the door behind me. So much for a boring train ride.

As I continued my search for an empty compartment, I realized that I probably should be laughing and joking with the other 7th year Ravenclaws. They were, after all, the closest things I had to friends. But most of them were closer to Oliver, my ex, and I'd fallen out of touch with the rest after Tristan's death. It would only be awkward to confront them, so I might as well wait and do it in the safety of the Great Hall.

An hour later, I crawled out of the only empty space I was able to find: a small niche underneath the luggage rack. Finally, _finally, _we were at Hogwarts. Judging from my train ride, it probably wouldn't be the best year ever, but that didn't mean I wasn't happy to be back. It would be a welcome change from the frigid atmosphere of the Whitacre House.

I filed off the train with the rest of the students, trying to look like I hadn't cramped myself into a storage area to avoid them. Breathing heavily to steady myself, I strode towards the horseless carriages. Or, formerly horseless carriages.

My eyes bulged out of my head when I saw them. Latched onto the elegant white carts were abnormally bony, seemingly hairless horses with thick, wrinkled wings protruding from their spines. My mouth went dry with terror from the horrifying creatures. I felt bile rising in my throat as I mentally scanned my six years of educations as to what they might be. I silently wished I had stayed with Care of Magical Creatures longer.

_Thestrals. _The word jumped in my brain suddenly and I immediately relaxed. Thank Merlin for my Ravenclaw tendencies to read too much. Thestrals, I now remembered, were a rare breed of winged horses that only appeared to those who had witnessed death firsthand. A shiver ran through me. Death. _Right. _

Still uncomfortable with the sinister-looking animals in front of me, I tip-toed into the first carriage available. I couldn't wait to just reach school, and pour myself into bed, where there were (hopefully) no scary creatures to speak of.

While I knew it was unrealistic that I would get an entire carriage to myself, I couldn't help but be disappointed when a blonde, starry-eyed student roamed in to join me. I recognized him vaguely; he was a Ravenclaw too, in my year, but he hadn't been made prefect, nor did he play Quidditch. We had only spoken enough for me to know for a fact that he was absolutely bonkers.

"Oh, hello!" he greeted me cheerily. I waved halfheartedly. "I'm sorry to intrude, but a young Slytherin just informed me there might be a crumple-horned snorkack lurking about in here. Thought I'd document it. For the school newspaper, you know." His eyes wandered around lazily and a gold necklace twinkled around his neck. I forced a smile.

"Well, I'm, er, looking forward to reading the article," I lied. In reality, I wasn't aware that Hogwarts even _had _a school newspaper. Much less that there was something called a 'crumple-horned snorkack'.

"Oh, thank you, thank you," he grinned dreamily. "I'll give you a copy as soon as I convince Dumbledore to begin the newspaper." _Ah. _So I'd been right. There wasn't a school newspaper after all. Not that I really cared. It just cemented my impression that he was certifiable.

"That's, um, kind of you," I said, raising an eyebrow at his craziness.

"Not at all! After your brother's accident, it's the least I can do." I nearly choked on my own saliva. 'My brother's accident'? How did he know about that? "Yes, I saw it in the paper," he continued, and I seriously considered the possibility that he was a Legilimens. "Very sad. I am sorry, Miss Whitacre."

"Er, thank you," I replied, looking away. This kid was a little too out-there for my taste.

"I suppose you don't know my name?" he guessed.

"Um, what?" I croaked, turning back to him.

"I only know yours because I saw your photograph in the Prophet. I read it quite avidly, you know."

"Oh."

"Well, I'm Xenophilius Lovegood." I smirked to myself - a fittingly odd name.

"Oh," I repeated. Instead of responding, Lovegood launched into a impressively strong rendition of Celestina Warbeck's latest hit. He continued through the album until we finally reached school, at which point I all but launched myself out of the carriage and scurried inside.

Dinner went by without a hitch. I hid myself behind mountains of roast beef (none of which I ate) and watched silently as the Sorting Hat did it's work. Ravenclaw only got a handful of new students, and Hufflepuff was actually the most popular of the four Houses. I snorted. That was an unexpected surprise.

Almost as soon as Dumbledore dismissed us all, I shot towards the Ravenclaw tower. I was going to have to face everyone sooner or later, might as well be sooner. By some miracle, I managed to reach the dorm room before my first confrontation.

Sighing in relief, I threw myself onto the four-poster, fantasizing about what it would be like to stay there and never get up. Never deal with my parents or my memories... It would be heaven.

"Arden?" Reluctantly, I pushed myself off of the mattress and turned to face Mabel, Oliver's well-meaning twin. She was also my former best friend, but after Oliver ended things with me, I decided it was best to back off for a while. Then everything with Tristan happened, and there didn't seem to be any time to rekindle our friendship. I smiled sheepishly at her.

"Hi, Mabel." I wasn't sure what response to expect. Chances were she would act just as awkward as I felt; we hadn't spoken all summer. I wasn't going to get my hopes up.

"Don't look so excited to see me!" she quipped. I ground out a chuckle, happily noting that Mabel was alone. I stiffened when she wrapped her arms around me, squealing with excitement. No one had been this happy to see me in... well, a while. Noting my hesitance, she pulled away.

"Look, if you're being so awkward because of you and my brother, don't worry about it. Oliver and I both feel awful about Tristan, and we really do want to help. At least, I do. I mean, we were friends without him, right?" Her eyes were wide enough to pop. I couldn't help a grin.

"Yeah, definitely," I reassured her. Beaming brightly, she skipped over to the bed next to mine. Perhaps seventh year wouldn't be so lonely after all.

For the rest of the night, Mabel dutifully deflected questions about Tristan for me, acting as though we were back in sixth year. But I had to remember that we weren't. That was then, and this was now, and things were so, _so _different.

**A/N: You know the drill. Comment, favorite, share. **


	5. Chapter Four

Like every year before, I was the first of the Ravenclaw girls to wake up. Groaning to myself at the misery of waking up so early, I rolled out of bed, straightening my pajamas as I went. The dorm was eerily silent, and I glanced around to make sure that the rest of the girls really were there. With the way things were going for me lately, it wouldn't come as a surprise if they'd all disappeared in the middle of the night.

"Arden?" Mabel croaked from behind me.

"Yeah, I'm awake," I responded, tugging my PJ top over my head and trading it for the uniform shirt. One by one, my fellow seventh-years crawled out of bed, each complaining about the ungodly hour. My boring, in-between-colored hair fell into my eyes as I leaned over my trunk, on the hunt for my school books. Noticeably absent from my things was my broomstick. After my last flight, I decided to end my Quidditch career. For good. I wasn't captain anyway, so what was the point?

Mabel trudged over to me, totally ready to go. Smirking, she poked my shoulder repeatedly until I stood. Bumping shoulders, we walked out to the Great Hall together. Part of me feared that I would have to see her brother, a.k.a my ex-boyfriend, but I forced myself to think of last night. I had spent a perfectly pleasant evening in the shadows."Walk with haste and don't be late, lest you miss the lessons that await," the guard eagle squawked after us. Mabel waved dismissively at him. (Him? It? I never really knew.)

The Great Hall was abuzz with chatter when we arrived. Students were milling about the room, exchanging greetings with their friend in other years and houses. Teachers strolled between the tables, passing out timetables as they went. Almost as soon as we walked in, Flitwick trotted over to us, two schedules in hand. Feeling a bit awkward, I leaned down to take them from him.

"Good to see you two as always," he said cheerily. "Hope you're happy with your schedules. Oh, and Ms. Whitacre - please do see me if you need anything in light of the recent tragedy." I blushed. Was it really necessary to bring that up at breakfast?

"Yes, of course, Professor," I agreed compliantly. "Thank you." Mabel smiled appreciatively down at him, leading me to a bench.

"So," she grinned. "What do you have?"

I glanced down at my timetable. Back in fifth year, I tentatively chose to take the classes required to become a Healer: Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Tacked onto the list were Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, my electives of choice. Mabel, on the other hand, wanted desperately to be a Magizoologist; Newt Scamander was her absolute idol. Luckily, we had three classes together: Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Charms.

"Not bad," she mused, tucking her timetable into her robes. "Anyway, it could have been worse. What if we hadn't had _any_classes together?"

"I think I just might die," I told her as seriously as I could. She giggled.

"I reckon you would!"

Half-smiling, I piled food on my plate, prepared to eat much more than I had at dinner. My stomach groaned in yearning as the sweet smell of bacon wafted up to my nose. Hogwarts food was even better than my house-elf's cooking, which was saying something. Sufficiently distracted from my conversation with Mabel, I promptly began to stuff my face.

"Mabel?" a familiar voice said. I choked. I would have recognized the voice of my ex-boyfriend, Oliver, anywhere. It wasn't like I still had feelings for him, but I still didn't feel like enduring an awkward reunion. We'd kissed before. You can't really just go back to being buddies after that. "Oh, er, hi Arden," he added hastily, obviously just as uncomfortable as I was. I smiled stiffly at him.

"Hey." Mabel's eyes darted between us nervously, like she expected someone to blow up or something. Instead, Oliver calmly turned back to her, looking as poised as ever.

"Mum just wrote us," he told her, holding out an endless scroll of parchment. Mabel rolled her eyes. Their mother was a bit... overprotective, you could say. Since their dad died, she doted on her children to no end, always making sure they had the best and newest things. This kindness didn't extend to strangers, though. After seven years of me being best friends with her children, she still eyed me suspiciously when I went to visit.

"Thanks," Mabel muttered. Nodding at us, Oliver hurried away. Part of me missed being able to hug him as I had in years past, but I knew that it wasn't _him _I was longing for. It was just _someone_ to hug, not even in a romantic way. I wanted someone I knew as well as family to hug me and tell me they loved me. Sighing, I turned away. I guess that's what Mabel was for.

"So... Are you okay with him?" Mabel prodded. I frowned, jerking out of my thoughts.

"What? Oh, yeah. We're fine," I told her honestly. Still, she assessed me critically. She clearly didn't understand the concept of moving on. I had bigger issues in my life than Oliver, at the moment. Forcing one last bite of croissant down my throat, I stood up, heaving my bag of books over my shoulder. "Come on. Class will be starting any minute now."

Together, we strode towards the Charms room. It was probably my favorite class, and Flitwick had told me one more than one occasion that I was a stellar student. His glowing praise of my abilities had made my parents see some good in me, at least until everything happened with Tristan.

Yawning, I slumped into the front row seat next to Mabel. Students of all different houses filed in. Since O.W.L.s, classes were based on what you wanted to do, not what house you were in. A slightly greasy, sinister-looking Slytherin perched in the seat next to mine and I vaguely noticed the Marauders waltz in. To my surprise, Lily Evans was tagging along, listening (if somewhat reluctantly) to an animated James Potter. I guess one night in the Heads' dorm really changed things. (And not in a creepy, perverted way, if that's what you're thinking. I just mean they must have talked.)

Flitwick droned on and on about the importance of Charms in the wizarding world today, and I struggled to keep listening. My eye kept wandering to the window. It wasn't like it mattered, really. First day speeches were always the same: we got lectured on the rules and regulations of being a Hogwarts student and reviewed a syllabus together. Nothing to write home about.

The rest of my classes were similarly uneventful. That boy from the carriage, Xenophilius was in almost all of the classes Mabel didn't share with me, so I spoke to him occasionally. Granted, it was a bit difficult to hold a conversation with someone more occupied with the truth behind Beedle the Bard's stories than school. Nonetheless, he was a surprisingly good wizard, and we got along fairly well.

Finally, the day was coming to a close. The only class I had left was Care of Magical Creatures, which I secretly considered a free. Although I never missed a day, we usually did absolutely nothing, and I often spent the period lounging about with Mabel or getting a head start on other homework. So I tramped down to the field by the gamekeeper's cottage, where Professor Kettleburn always had us meet.

Xeno came with me. I was unsurprised to learn that he was a passionate CoMC student, given his obsession with the crumple-horned snorkack. According to him, he'd asked repeatedly to study the creature in class, but was always turned down by Kettleburn. I wonder why. (Note the sarcasm.)

Mabel met us there, though she regarded my new companion cautiously. She, like most Ravenclaws, was very into logic and proof. This kind of thinking didn't mesh well with Xeno's more eccentric ideas.

"You actually like him?" she mouthed to me in the minutes before class. I only shrugged in response. It wasn't like I had anyone else to hang out with.

"Look!" Xeno blurted out suddenly. I jumped. "That leaf on the tree! That one, there! There's a neezlepop on it, I swear!" With this declaration, he stumbled over to the tree, eyes wide in wonder.

"A _neezlepop?" _Mabel repeated incredulously. "What in Merlin's name is _that?" _

"It's probably some conspiracy theory thing," I guessed. Mabel frowned.

"I can't possibly see how he's _Ravenclaw," _she announced. I raised an eyebrow.

"What else would he be? Slytherin?" I quipped. We both knew that Xeno would get eaten alive in that place.

"Well, no. But... He doesn't fit in, that's all," she said finally.

"Is that bad?"

"Not necessarily. I guess he's just the only person I know like that. You know, that I couldn't quite place." I sighed.

"I know what you mean." Throughout the day, the Marauders were _still _using those odd nicknames, none of which I could decode. It didn't really matter, I suppose. I was just desperately curious, and now that I had started wondering, I wouldn't be able to stop until I knew exactly what they meant.

After a few more moments of chit-chat, Professor Kettleburn assembled the students. He was not an attractive man, especially since all his time with creatures had left him horribly disfigured. A dark stump of wood protruded from one of his knees and one of his hands was clearly fake. Still, he sported a jovial smile and seemed insanely happy to be there.

"Welcome to seventh year Care of Magical Creatures!" he greeted us cheerfully. A few students gave a lackluster hurrah, mocking his enthusiasm. "Student this year must know that the things we're studying might be dangerous - perhaps deadly! This is not a course for the faint of heart!"

I rolled my eyes. He gave the same warning every year, and the only time someone went to the hospital wing was when that flobberworm nipped at Lucius Malfoy's finger. In fact, he didn't even need to see Madam Pomfrey; he just liked the attention. It was pathetic, if you ask me.

"Today, we are going to start with a little review! All of you are going to be trapping unicorns and leading them back over to the paddock for the fourth years." The entire class groaned. Unicorns tended to be shifty around humans and resisted captivity; it wasn't exactly an easy task to get a whole herd into a paddock.

"Because you are my most advanced students, you get the privilege of going into the Forbidden Forest," Kettleburn continued. "I have put a border up around the more dangerous parts of the forest, so you needn't worry about that. You won't be going very far in. And you will have a partner, if anything goes wrong."

Automatically, everyone stepped closer to their best friend. It always sucked working with a stranger, especially when the assignment took place in the Forbidden Forest. Kettleburn chuckled.

"Ah, I see you've found your partners. But I'm afraid that would be a bit too easy... Seeing as unicorns tend to favor girls over boys, I shall be giving you partners for today's lesson. Everyone will be paired with a member of the opposite sex." The class collectively groaned.

"This is going to be _awful," _Mabel whined quietly.

"First, I will put... Lily Evans with..."

"Me, me, me," James Potter prayed dramatically from the back. Lily blushed bright red before reaching over and hitting him over the head.

"Ah, yes, Lily Evans with Sirius Black!" Kettleburn decided. Potter groaned and glared at his best friend.

"Bad luck, mate," Black apologized, walking over to Lily.

"Next, er... Let's see... Potter, you go with Murple," Potter trudged over to a chubby Hufflepuff. "Now, Mabel Faust can go with, ah, yes, Mr. Lovegood!" Mabel's brow crinkled and she pouted at me in distaste. I gently nudged her in Xeno's direction. Kettleburn continued on, rattling off names. I waited patiently until I heard my own.

"Lupin, you go with Whitacre. Everyone have a partner? Good. Go on, then!"

As Lupin strode over to me, I considered my position. It wasn't that bad, compared to some people. Lily looked ready to kill Black. It would just be awkward, I supposed. After all, we'd hardly ever spoken. Still, I put on a smile. If we were going to trap unicorns together, we should probably get along.

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! How did you guys like the chapter? Comment please!**

Next chapter: Lupin and Arden in the Forbidden Forest!


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N: Hey guys, I am SO SO SORRY about the wait. I know it took a long time, but finals just suck like that. Christmas break soon, though.**

**I'd like to ask you to remember the victims of the Sandy Hook School Shooting in Newtown, as well. I live about 20 minutes away from the school and it's been a truly horrifying experience. If you haven't heard of it, it was the second deadliest school shooting in US history (behind Virginia Tech). If updates continue to be slow, chances are it's because I'm trying to comfort friends who live there. Thank you for understanding :)**

Lupin and I trekked into the forest in silence. More than once, I felt like I should be at least trying to make some sort of conversation, but I honestly didn't have anything to say. We were just working together because Kettleburn had told us to. There wasn't any use in acting like we actually wanted to be there.

Absentmindedly, I hummed some new Stubby Boardman song to myself in an effort to diffuse the awkward silence. Lately, I hadn't paid much attention to things like music, but the girls played it nonstop last night. I could practically recite the lyrics by heart, now.

"Do you like Stubby Boardman?" Lupin piped up suddenly. I jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," I shrugged. "Not as much as my roommates. Do you like him?" I added after a beat, feeling obliged to keep the conversation going.

"Not particularly. Sirius gets told he looks like him a bunch, you know." I scrunched my nose up. Black and Stubby? I couldn't exactly picture it. The only real similarity between them was they were both fairly attractive guys with black hair.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he thinks it's hilarious. Always makes a really big deal out of it, too. Once he even convinced some poor first year that he _was _Stubby Boardman," he chuckled. "It was horrible, but pretty brilliant."

Despite myself, I laughed softly. That I _could _picture. Lupin was right in saying that it was an awful trick to play on an innocent eleven year old, but everyone else must have gotten a kick out of it. I may have just met Black, but he seemed like exactly the type of person to pull that kind of a prank. Lily must have been absolutely furious.

"Do you do things like that a lot?" I asked. Normally I wasn't one for small talk, yet I was enjoying this, and I hadn't heard him mention my brother once. Maybe, by some sort of miracle, he just didn't know. Maybe he somehow understood that it was a touchy subject. Whatever it was, I was eternally grateful.

_"They _do," he corrected me. "James and Sirius, and even Peter. I more... supervise. Not to sound arrogant or anything, but I'm surprised you haven't heard of us. We're basically every prefect's worst nightmare."

"But _you're _a prefect," I pointed out. "And Potter's Head Boy."

"Believe me, we're just as confused as you are," he grinned. "I guess Dumbledore hoped I'd sort the rest of them out once I got a badge and everything, and then... Well, perhaps he's just as sick of Lily and James avoiding each other as the rest of us."

"Dumbledore? A romantic?" I said doubtfully, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't have to be a romantic to see they're meant for each other," Lupin retorted. "And it's bloody annoying watching them run in circles. Although I don't know if giving James any responsibility whatsoever was the proper solution."

Suddenly, he froze, raising a finger to warn me not to speak. I followed his gaze curiously before my eyes landed on a full-grown unicorn. It truly was beautiful, with a metallic mane and pure white fur. It kind of made me want to run and hug it, but I knew I couldn't do that. Not only were unicorns very easily frightened, they were also incredibly good hiders, so if we scared this one away, we might not find another.

I inched forward slowly, hands raised like I was surrendering. Lupin stayed where he was, only moving to hand me a harness. Kettleburn constantly emphasized the fact that unicorns were more responsive to females, so we had an unspoken agreement that I would be the one to capture the creature. The unicorn cautiously looked into my eyes, shuffling its hooves uncomfortably.

"Shh," I soothed. By now I was close enough to hook the harness around its fragile horn. My hands quivered as they brushed the unicorn's plush fur, but at the same time I felt strangely calm. It was another thing Kettleburn had told us about them - they seemed to magically erase all your troubles. It only jerked its head slightly as I hooked the clasped around its neck. "Got it," I murmured to Lupin. He nodded before turning back towards the front of the forest.

I guided the unicorn through the trees. In reality, it probably knew the way better than I did, but I liked feeling like I was some kind of protector. Gradually, Kettleburn's stooped silhouette came in to sight. I tugged gently at the unicorn, pulling it towards the clearing, where one other pair of students lounged with their own catch.

"Lupin, Whitacre!" Kettleburn greeted us jovially. He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a fancy-looking watch. "32 minutes, on the dot! Very good, very good indeed! Now, when the other students return, we will be grooming the unicorns, but for now, you'll just have to wait." Humming, he returned to his post at the front of the clearing, waiting for the next pair.

Absentmindedly, I scratched around the base of the unicorn's horn. It nuzzled into me in response. I chuckled, leaning my weight against the animal.

"You're a sweetie, aren't you?" I cooed, as if to a baby. It whinnied happily.

"Do you like animals a lot, then?" Lupin asked. I shrugged.

"I suppose so. It's really more Mabel-my friend-'s thing. I've never even had a pet." It was true. My parents had always deemed any sort of animal a distraction, and besides, I didn't really have time to care for an owl or cat. I'd been playing Quidditch since second year, and then I had prefect patrols.

"Oh. Well, that unicorn seems to like you, anyways."

"Probably not anymore than it likes anyone else," I said humbly. I nudged its head in his direction. "Here, you pet it. It's quite tame, so it's not going to attack or anything. I promise." He smiled queasily before reaching out a hand and stroking its neck.

Out of nowhere, the unicorn reared back. Eyes bulging wildly, it bounded away from Lupin, tugging at the lead rope. I tightened my grasp on the rope, trying desperately to control the crazed creature. By now, the other students were backing away, terrified of being trampled by the unicorn.

Kettleburn rushed to my aid, flinging calming charms at the animal. Gradually, it settled back down, but it still kept its distance from Lupin, who looked fairly traumatized by the experience.

"Very odd," Kettleburn muttered from beside me. "Unicorns are usually a great judge of character. Can't imagine why Lupin would set it off."

I pondered this musing as I groomed my unicorn, who I had tentatively decided to call 'Selene'. Given the earlier incident, Lupin was permitted to sit out, so I brushed Selene's mane alone. What on earth could she (for Kettleburn had told me that Selene was, in fact, a 'she') have seen wrong with Lupin? True, I didn't know him well at all, but he seemed like a perfectly good person. And why were his friends all sending pitying looks his way? Did Kettleburn mean something by the comment? Was Selene's reaction just a fluke, or was there genuinely something sinister about Lupin?

"Do you think he's the next Dark Lord or something?" I asked Selene sarcastically. She shuffled her hooves. Realizing that I must look bonkers talking to a unicorn, I reluctantly put down my brush and requested permission to leave from Kettleburn.

"Yes, I suppose you may go," he allowed. "But before you do- what did you decide to do after Hogwarts again?"

"Er, healing, sir," I informed him politely, not sure why he needed to know. He nodded pensively.

"It's just that, you'd probably do very well working with animals, based on how you interacted with that unicorn."

"Oh, Selene? Yeah, she's sweet," I blurted before thinking. Kettleburn raised an eyebrow at me. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. "I mean... I just called her that, so I wouldn't have to say 'the unicorn' all the time," I mumbled, feeling humiliated.

"Well, if you and, ah, _Selene _are so close, you're welcome to come help with the animals anytime you like." He glanced around before leaning in conspiratorially. "You know, it's proven that animals can be quite helpful to those who been through _traumatic experiences." _At this, my blush deepened.

"Um, thank you, sir," I said abruptly before scurrying away. Mabel, who'd finished just after I had, bounced along behind me.

"What did he want?" she wondered. I looked away, trying to think of a believable lie. It was Mabel's dream to work with animals, but I knew for a fact that Kettleburn hadn't commented on her skills even once.

"He, uh, invited me to help with some of the animals," I admitted finally, accepting that she would see straight through any fib I told. I eyed her cautiously, but her face only fell a miniscule amount.

"Oh," she breathed brightly, forcing a smile on her face. "Well, I think you should. I can tell you haven't been the same since Tristan; you're not even playing Quidditch. It will be good for you to have something to do."

I beamed at her, reminded of why we were best friends. It couldn't have been easy for her to be so supportive, but she was anyways. It was incredibly sweet of her not to throw a tantrum when she clearly wanted this more than I did. I, in comparison, was not nearly so good a friend. Not only had I basically abandoned her this summer, I still hadn't told her the truth about Tristan's death, and I wasn't sure if I ever would. Did lying to her about it make me an awful person? Shaking my head, I pushed the thoughts away. We were still friends, and at the moment, that was all that mattered.

**A/N: Thanks for reading, guys! Again, I'm sorry if it wasn't my best, especially because I kept you waiting for so long, but my community has been struggling with Friday's tragedy and I'm kind of having a hard time concentrating. Thank you so much for understanding, and please keep Sandy Hook in your thoughts! (And comments would be great, too.)**


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